Fuck Love
by swordfightingprincess
Summary: Cato and Clove never wanted to fall for each other. The easiest thing to do? Pretend that their feelings don't exist. Unfortunately things don't always go their way especially during the 74th Hunger Games.


**Hey! This is my first Hunger Games fic, so I hope you like it. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. All rights go to Suzanne Collins. **

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For Clove it was a bunch of little things. The way he got totally into his sword training, so much that no one could distract him. The way that he would always be up for trying something new, even if he is awful at it. His sense of humour, usually pretty dark and sadistic, but funny nonetheless. The look of triumph on his face when he won a wrestling match, or finally got the hand of spear throwing. The way his hands ran through his short hair almost without thinking when he was deep in thought. His terrible singing voice, that came out when he was alone with her. His relentless teasing that stopped the moment he was proven wrong. The face he made when he was trying not to blush. His real deep laugh that almost never happened, but when it did it was contagious. The way he really wasn't afraid to talk to her about his fears; death, being forgotten, dying having never made a difference in anyone's lives. Little did he know he'd made a huge difference on hers.

For Clove Kentwell, it was a slow transition from seeing Cato Hadley as a good friend, seeing him as someone that mattered more to her than he ever should have.

For Cato, it was one huge revelation that occurred one day during training. Clove had convinced him to attempt knife throwing again. He'd already proven that it wasn't his strong suit, but in district two you had to be proficient with many weapons. Or maybe he liked watching Clove in her element.

"Pass me a knife."

The moment the knife was in her hand Clove transformed. Her eyes sparked a fierce determination, and her entire face lit up. Her arm pulled back gracefully, and her entire body hummed with energy. She threw the knife and before it has even hit the target a look of triumph had crossed her face, because she never missed her target. He'd seen her do it a million times, but this time he really notices her. She retrieved the knife and pressed it into his hand, her touch sending shivers through his arm.

"Arm back, aim and throw." She said.

He knew, she'd taught him the same thing many times, but he never felt the knife the way he felt a sword or spear. He positioned himself in front of the target, aimed and threw. The knife hit the target, but far away from the centre. Clove laughed and used her hands to re position his arms and show him the angles. Again. Except this time, for some reason, he felt sparks run through his body every time she touched him. Instead of picking her up and flinging her over his shoulder like he often did, he wanted to pull her in and kiss her like he'd never wanted to kiss someone before.

For Cato Hadley, it was one quick moment that turned Clove Kentwell from his best friend, to someone he felt much deeper feelings toward than he ever thought he would.

"Fuck love." Clove screams into her pillow. Because love makes you weak and she can't be weak.

"Fuck love." Cato says to his walls, his ceiling, anything that listens. Because there were so many prettier girls who wanted him but he wanted to one he couldn't have.

"Fuck love." because Clove can't lose one of the few people in the world who really gets her over a stupid crush.

"Fuck love." because Cato hates the feeling of needing someone like he needs Clove.

"Fuck love." because Clove tries to fight her feelings only to find it useless. And she hates feeling helpless.

"Fuck love." because Cato sees the way she scoffs at couples and doesn't want to be heartbroken over his best friend.

""Fuck love." because Clove knows he won't want her and doesn't want to risk her heart.

"Fuck love." because every year there will be a reaping, and there's always a chance that one of them will leave and never come back. And there's no way either of them want to be the one sobbing at the funeral or walking around Two hollow-eyed and empty for weeks.

Cato thinks he can get over her when they get to the Capitol. He can let the other tributes fall for him. He can make Clove hate him enough that he might be able to win. If he tries hard enough he can focus on the games, and the other tributes and maybe get over her.

Clove thinks she can get over him if she hardens herself. She throws knives and imagines them striking the hearts of every other tribute she sees. She wants to get to the arena and _kill._ She wants to watch the life drain from enough eyes to stop feeling. Maybe then Cato won't matter anymore.

Cato needs a distraction. He lets the pretty blonde from One drape herself all over him. He lets her hands slide over his body when they're alone and whispers what she wants to hear. He turns away from Clove pretending he doesn't see her flirting with Marvel. He lets Glimmer take him away to dark corners, where her hands roam his body, her lips tracing patterns over his face and neck. He wants to let himself get lost in sex and gore. He tries his best to feel anything, to let himself be seduced, but it kills him to flirt with Glimmer when he all he can think about is Clove and the anger in her eyes when she sees them. _It'll be better this way, when one of us has to die. _But he doesn't want Clove to hate him. _Clove is just a distraction from the games. Get over her._

Clove needs a focus. She throws knives until she can hit targets with her eyes closed, but it brings her no satisfaction. She wrestles and spars with anyone willing until they no longer think the tiny girl from Two is an easy target, but her heart still longs for the boy with the sword and the pretty blonde bitch that Clove's learned to hate, hanging off his arm. So she copies his angle, flirting with the boy from One. He's almost as attractive as Glimmer, and amicably plays along, but Cato doesn't seem to care. So Clove starts ignoring Marvel, since she was only using him anyway. She comes up with different ways to kill the other tributes. _Once there's a knife in every one of their backs, I'll surely be over him. When I've killed the others I can kill Cato. I'll have to, so I better get the fuck over him._

Even in the arena Cato flirts with Glimmer, let's her think she's got a chance. He does it for sponsors, but he knows keeping Clove at a distance is a good idea. It's more bearable now that he can really kill, but he's still not entirely over her yet. When the Girl on Fire drops a tracker jacker nest on them, he doesn't have time to think. Out of instinct he wakes Clove as fast as he can, dragging her towards the river. All his old feelings he worked hard to suppress came rushing back as they stood in the river still holding hands while they pulled tracker jacker stingers out of themselves. The moment Marvel and Lover boy join them Clove rips her hand away. "Why didn't you save your _girlfriend?_" she sneers. "Why wouldn't you save Glimmer if you _love _her so much." it stings, hearing her ask this. He needs to get back on his game.

Being in the arena with Cato and Glimmer acting like lovebirds is torture. Clove spends the first four days sharpening her knives and relishing every kill. She craves the moments when she looks around and feels alive. Only now instead of coming from being with Cato, these moments of life come from having blood on her hands. This drove everyone on their career pack to if not fear her, as Marvel, Loverboy, and the girl from four did, to at least know not to cross her, as Glimmer did. Only Cato refused to let her lead, which made her hate him more than she already did. By nightfall on the fourth day, they'd driven the Girl on Fire up a tree and made camp at the bottom. Seeing Glimmer curled up under Cato's arm only made her crave more bloodshed. She had no idea what time it was when she was woken by harsh, nauseating stings and someone dragging her by her wrist to the river. Cato. Fuck. Clove stupidly doesn't pull away, letting him hold her hand until Marvel and Loverboy arrive letting her know Glimmer is dead. She wants to rejoice until she sees lack of emotion on Cato's face. He played the pretty girl from One the way he played with her feelings all the way up until now. Clove snaps.

One by one their allies fall. Cato and Clove find Glimmer and the girl from Four deformed from Tracker Jacker stings. They find Marvel slumped near a trap with an arrow in his neck. They watch Loverboy run after the Girl on Fire and wait patiently for his cannon which doesn't come. They watch the boy from Three fall to the ground after Cato snaps his neck. Both wait for fate to separate them but nothing happens so they stay together. They know the end approaches and only one can win, but with no one else around both realise that their feelings are still very much present.

The night the game makers announce that there could be two winners if they originated from the same district, the two tributes have hope, hope that they won't have to kill each other. Cato's eyes light up at the news.

"We're going home baby!" he whispers, thrilled.

The words send shivers down Cloves spine.

Soon after the announcement, Cato kisses Clove, pulling her in and kissing her hard, pouring in all the feelings he fought so hard to hide. For a second he worries that he'd misinterpreted her odd glances and animosity towards Glimmer until she kisses him back.

The kiss catches Clove off guard. Cato kisses her like the world is ending and this can save it. Clove kisses him back like the world doesn't exist, only they do. For the first time she sees that he does love her, and that she really loves him. And for the first time, it doesn't scare her.

"What about Glimmer?" she asks when they break the kiss.

"That was nothing. I was just trying to get over you." Cato swears. "She was nothing. You are everything."

"Can you hold me? The way you held Glimmer?"

"Better."

And it was. He only let Glimmer snuggle up next to him. He held Clove in his arms like he would let the world burn before he let her go. She usually hated having someone try to protect her, but this time she didn't mind. Maybe because she knew that Cato felt the same way. She kind of liked being in love.

At the feast Clove almost had Katniss. She took to long taunting her and the boy from Eleven heard her. As he held her off the ground she screamed. Clove had promised herself that she wouldn't scream but as Thresh held a rock above her head she knew the end was near and she wasn't Clove Kentwell Possible Victor, she was Clove Kentwell Fifteen Year Old Girl who no longer wanted to be in the games. So she screamed for Cato.

He came too late. As Clove lay dying she saw his face above her's, begging her to stay with him. She really wanted to, she wanted to sit up and grab her knives. She wanted to have more time to throw knives and to avenge herself. She wanted to apologise for her kills because now that she was close to death she never wanted to make anyone feel this pain. Mostly she wanted to have more time with Cato, more time to _love _instead of _kill._ As Cato begged her to stay with him, she used her last breath to try and choke out something close to 'I love you Cato' before her world went black.

Fuck love indeed, because sometimes when it's real it ends too soon.

There were only three tributes left in the game, thought Cato as he heard Thresh's cannon go off. He'd killed the guy that killed Clove but he still felt empty. He'd spent so much time preparing himself to win without Clove, but now he had no desire to.

He held Loverboy above the mutts watching the Girl on Fire train her bow on me.

"Go ahead, I'm dead anyway." that wasn't a lie, without Clove he felt dead inside, like his life wasn't worth living. A few seconds later he was lying on the ground, crying in pain as the mutts tore him apart. He wanted the Girl on Fire to shoot him, end his suffering so maybe he could have peace, be with Clove again. When he hears the whistle of an arrow through the air he sees her smile, hears her laugh, taste her lips on his. As the world fades away he whispers into the hoard of mutts:

"Clove, I'm sorry_."_

Fuck love, because it reaches inside you and rips you apart, makes your life worth living for someone else, and even though he would have died for Clove, now he didn't have her but he was going to die anyway.


End file.
